Livid
by shadowarwen
Summary: Jim unknowingly witnesses his mother's murderer. When he is called in to help with the investigation, more than just the killer is revealed.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"So, you're asking for my blessing, is that it?" Jim sat back in his chair and sighed in frustration. His mother had contacted him half an hour ago for what he thought would be one of their regular 'catching up' conversations. Yeah, not so much. Instead he got slammed with the news of his mother's engagement to her long-time prick of a boyfriend. So far, all attempts to persuade her otherwise were met with opposition and anger.

"Is that too much to ask?" she blurted out angrily. "He's been in both our lives for most of a decade, Jim! He's taken care of us, loved us. And I love him in return. I know the two of you haven't always gotten on…"

Jim snorted. "We never got along, mom."

"Sweetie, you never gave him a chance!"

"Yeah, because he was a jackass!" Jim ran his hand through his hair in irritation. "He didn't treat you right, and unless he's changed dramatically in the past year, I doubt he treats you any better."

Winona glared at her son. "He treats me wonderfully, Jim. You're just too stubborn to see it."

"That's a load of crap, but you never listened to me about him, and you're not going to start now," he sighed for at least the fourth time since this conversation started. "I don't want to hurt you, mom, but…you have to understand that I can't give you my blessing. I don't think this is a good idea," he said hesitantly, waiting for his mother to throw an epic fit.

But no fit was forthcoming. Just resignation. "I thought as much. But I had to try. You're my son," she looked at him fondly, but Jim could see the sadness reflected in her eyes. Sadness he had caused.

"What does Sam think about this?" he asked when the silence became too much.

She grinned slightly. "He approves, of course."

"He was never around, of course he approves," he remarked a little heatedly. He couldn't believe Sam gave the 'ok' when he'd told him over and over how much of a dick Stan was.

"Jim," she said with the _tone_. The tone she used when her son was becoming more than she could handle. More than she wanted to deal with. The tone that made Jim shut down when he was around her. The tone meant he was doing something that reminded her of his father. Her dead husband.

"I apologize, I shouldn't have said that," Jim said quietly after a quiet and tense-filled moment.

Winona shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she said distantly. "I shouldn't have contacted you," she muttered under her breath. Jim heard her.

He sighed. That made five. He was on the verge of ending the conversation when he saw someone outside of her window. Probably Stan, the little prick.

"Mom, someone's outside," he said.

She met his eyes briefly before looking away. They were closed off. She was angry at him. He wondered what it was he'd done or said that reminded her of him. He was about to apologize again but she'd already gotten up from the kitchen table, she always set up her computer console there, and was looking out the living room window behind her.

"Did he move towards the door?" she asked, obviously thinking it was Stan, too.

"Yeah," he said. "Mom…"

She wasn't even acknowledging him now. Wonderful. It would be another month before she got in contact with him again.

He heard her answer the door and start talking with someone, though he couldn't understand the words. He waited for her to come back and say goodbye to him. Five minutes passed and he started to get annoyed. It wouldn't be the first time they'd gotten into an argument and she'd just abandoned the conversation and him without saying another word. But it was odd that she hadn't come back to disengage the connection.

Two minutes later he was pissed enough to just disconnect himself when his communicator signaled. "Yes?" he asked a bit more harshly than was normal.

Uhura sounded cautious when she answered. "Captain, you're needed on the command deck."

He sighed. Make that six. "Understood." He snapped his hand down on the disconnect button and left his quarters.

………………………

Two weeks later…

"What's our status, Mr. Sulu?"

Sulu swiveled his chair around to face the captain. "We'll reach Korvin in approximately two hours, sir," he informed before turning back to his station.

Jim nodded, tapping his fingers idly against the arm of his chair. Korvin was a densely populated planet that had no real developments to speak of in the past, but they had contacted Starfleet with intentions of joining the Federation. That was all the prompting they needed to send out a ship for negotiations. The icing on the cake was the mention of recently developed technological advances. Unfortunately, the _Enterprise_ was the closest vessel and was dispatched to the planet.

Political missions weren't exactly Jim's forte. Speaking diplomatically with world leaders took some getting used to. Plus, they were boring. They took hours, sometimes days, and if they were successful, awesome. If they weren't, he'd just wasted those previously mentioned past few hours or days that he would never get back.

"Captain?"

Jim glanced up and saw Spock standing next to him. He had a funny way of just appearing when Jim wasn't looking. Stealthy. And kind of irritating when he thought about it.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?"

"I was curious if you had chosen your members for the delegation yet," he inquired, standing completely rigid with his hands crossed behind his back. Jim wondered if he ever cramped up doing that.

Jim looked up at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I wish to attend."

Ah, well that was no shocker. What Jim found yawningly boring, Spock found enticing. Of course he wanted to come.

"Very well," Jim had no problem with letting his second in command joining him on the mission. Maybe he could even convince him to take over a few meetings for him.

Spock nodded his understanding and quickly walked back to the science station. Jim watched him go. It had been a year since what he personally referred to as the "Nero Incident". He had expected Spock and him to become fast friends. Well, that hadn't happened, but at least they didn't hate each other any longer. They were civil and friendly, but that was about the extent of it. He wondered if 'older' Spock had been wrong.

It wasn't uncommon for Spock to join him on away missions. Especially lately he'd noticed his first officer had felt the need to accompany him planet side. In their professional relationship, they were growing. He just couldn't understand why their friendship wasn't moving as quickly.

"Captain, I have an incoming transmission from Starfleet Command," Uhura had her hand held against the communications device in her ear. "It's Admiral Pike."

"Put it on screen," he ordered. He turned in time to see Pike's face flash up on the previously blank surface. "Admiral Pike, it's good to see you," he greeted. It had been nearly three months since their last conversation. The man was interesting. He enjoyed their talks, when they had them.

"Captain Kirk," he smiled gently. "I'm glad to see you're doing well," he said after a moment's pause. The tone in which he said it made Jim a little suspicious. Why wouldn't he be well?

"How can I help you?" he asked when Pike seemed a little uncertain on how to proceed.

"Jim, the authorities in Iowa have asked for your presence. Starfleet agreed considering the circumstances. The Norway is in route to Korvin to complete your mission," he said, but Jim didn't understand why.

"Why do they need me in Iowa?" he asked. He couldn't believe they were being pulled from a mission, even one he wasn't too thrilled about, to help the Iowa police. This was ridiculous.

"Jim," Pike leaned over his desk as if he could get closer. He softened his voice. "They think you might have caught a glimpse of your mother's murderer."

Everything on the command deck went completely silent. Jim felt like his legs were about to give out. This didn't make sense.

"What?" he asked harshly.

Pike looked confused then extremely worried. "Jim…you were told about this, two weeks ago."

Kirk shook his head so quickly he made himself dizzy. "I wasn't told anything! What are you talking about?" Someone took his arm but he didn't care to look who it was.

"You weren't told?" Pike looked absolutely stunned.

"Told _what_?" he hissed out venomously, slowly. The hand on his arm grasped tighter as another was placed against his back. Support. Oh shit.

Admiral Pike took in a steady breath. He obviously hadn't expected to have to give Kirk the bad news. "Your mother was killed two weeks ago, Jim. She was strangled. The authorities were called out by a neighbor who found her."

That time Jim's legs did buckle. The arms holding him dragged him to the command chair and he slumped in it. He could feel the eyes of his entire bridge crew boring holes into him.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered warily. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. This couldn't be happening. Two weeks ago. His mother had been dead for two weeks.

"Someone dropped the ball, Jim. I'm deeply apologetic. You should have been told immediately."

Jim ignored him. He stood, nearly fell, tried again. The hand holding him up, he discovered, belonged to Bones. He tried to shake him off without any luck. Whatever, he needed off the command deck. Away from all the prying eyes. If Bones wanted to be dragged along for the ride, so be it.

He started towards the lift. Bones came with him. He wasn't surprised.

"Do we set a course for Earth?" he heard Chekov ask quietly in the background.

Jim stopped. The dead silence returned. He turned and glared up at the screen. "How the hell did I see the murderer?" he finally asked, remembering Admiral Pike's original request.

"Just prior to her death you were having a video conversation with her. When the authorities reviewed the recorded conversation, they heard you say you saw someone at her window…" Pike trailed off. "Jim, are you all right?"

Dear God, he'd seen the man. He had thought it was Stan. As much as he hated Stan, he knew the man wasn't a killer. Was he?

He registered McCoy's grip on his arm tightening and felt numb as he was pulled again towards the lift. "Now isn't the time or place for this conversation," he said harshly to the Admiral. "I'm taking him to his quarters. You can discuss all the damn technicalities with Mr. Spock."

As soon as the lift doors closed he sunk down onto the floor. How had this happened? He'd just been talking to her when she was killed. Had it been Stan? He honestly didn't think the man had it in him to kill anyone, let alone his mother. As much as Jim hated him, he knew Stan seriously loved his mother.

Bones knelt down in front of him. "Jim, what can I do?" he asked.

Jim stared at him. "Nothing." He stood up; wallowing on the floor wasn't going to help anyone. And certainly not his mother. She was already dead. He stared at the wall until the doors opened for their exit. He mechanically walked the hallway until he stood in front of his quarters.

"Are you going to go in?" asked McCoy after they'd been standing there for a moment without any movement on his part.

He supposed so. He walked forward and triggered the doors. They slid open and he walked inside. The room was dark. Bones stared at him. He could feel the exasperation coming from him. Bones was a good friend, but he wasn't big on patience. Especially when he didn't know how to help someone he cared about. "Lights," ordered Bones gruffly. "Go lay down," Jim was manhandled over to the bed and directed to sit before Bones pushed his shoulders down to the pillows. "Rest."

Normally this kind of behavior from his CMO would have annoyed the crap right on out of him. But not today. He just didn't care. His mother was dead. He'd been right there. And yet he'd been light years away. He wouldn't have been able to save her. But that didn't stop the 'what if's' from traveling around in his head. He should have known something was wrong when she didn't come back to the consol after five minutes. She always terminated the line. Always. But she hadn't that day. He should have known!

"How long until we reach earth?" asked Jim after he'd been laying there for a few minutes. He wanted to know how long he had before he had to deal with things on a professional level. To say he wasn't looking forward to dealing with the authorities on earth would have been an understatement. At least he would get to speak to actual detectives, not the robotic beings they had out on patrol. They were a pain in the ass at the best of times.

"I'd guess a day or two. I can find out for certain later. You just rest now, Jim. That's an order!" Bones roughly grabbed the edge of the blanket he was laying on and pulled it until it covered him. He felt him grab his boots and pull them off, followed by the socks. "Should I sedate you?" he asked. He already had a hypospray out and was aiming for his neck.

Jim instinctively flinched away before actually giving it thought. Sedation might be a good idea if he didn't want to spend the next few minutes, hours, whatever, thinking about how he could have saved his mother. Even though he couldn't. He hadn't stood a chance in hell of saving her.

"Yeah, maybe you should," he said softly.

Bones looked marginally surprised. Considering he abhorred hyposprays of any kind, Jim wasn't. Bones put pressure on the side of his face until he got the drift and tilted his head so the CMO had access to his neck. Ouch. There was a reason he hated those things.

It didn't take long for the medication to take affect and he started drifting. And then he was out completely.

When he next awakened, it was the following afternoon and Bones was no longer present. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wanted company. But on the other hand, he wanted to be alone. But he was beginning to realize he needed someone there to help keep his mind off of things.

Sitting up, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood. Best to keep himself busy, he figured. So, he went about his regular morning routine. Never mind that it was late afternoon. He brushed his teeth and then got in the shower. A full-on shower, too. Toweling off, he stepped into his bedroom and found that his shirt and pants were already laid out on the bed for him. But no one was in the room. Bones. The man must have had triggered the sensors in the room to alert him when he woke up.

He didn't give it much thought, but appreciated the gesture. He got dressed, ran his fingers through his hair, and walked out the door. And straight into Bones.

"Bones," he greeted without any real fervor.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, almost clinically.

Jim looked at him weirdly. "You sedated me," he answered. "How do you think I slept?"

"It's not uncommon to experience bad dreams while sedated. I should have thought about that before I gave you the hypospray," Bones roughly ran a hand through his hair.

"No bad dreams," he reassured. "At least none that I can remember."

Bones let out a deep breath. "Thank God! I was worried all damn night that you were having horrible nightmares and you wouldn't be able to wake up."

Jim looked at him stoically. "I was fine."

That didn't seem to reassure him. "You want to say that with a little more believability?"

"My mother is dead, Bones. How the hell do you expect me to be?"

McCoy stopped and stared at him. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" he asked. He crossed his arms and his stare became a little disconcerting.

Jim turned on his heel and walked away from his chief medical officer. He hadn't noticed it before, but quite a few people had stopped and were watching the interaction between the Captain and the CMO. He almost glared at them, but figured that wasn't behavior befitting a Captain. They immediately stopped staring once they realized he was watching. One young ensign almost tripped over his feet in his rush to get away. Jim almost laughed at that. Almost. But, it wasn't that funny in retrospect. His mother was dead.

"Captain."

Jim barely managed to stop from running head on into Spock. The man had materialized in front of him before he'd gone ten feet down the hallway. "What can I do for you, Mr. Spock?" he asked politely. No need in taking his grief and frustration out on his crew.

"I would like to give my condolences regarding the death of your mother," he said, stoic as always.

"Would you now?" Jim was irrationally annoyed at the calm disregard Spock seemed to always convey. It was normal, true. But, in this instance, it just really pissed him off. He really wanted to rethink that whole 'not taking his grief and frustration out on his crew', thing.

Spock, of all people, knew what he was feeling. Knew how it felt to lose a mother. He'd like a little emotion, thank you very much. But, it was unreasonable to want that. From Spock, especially. The one person he could relate to in this situation. Maybe he wanted someone to talk to after all. A person who damn well understood. Like that was going to happen. It was kind of hard to talk to someone about something like this, especially if they weren't even friends yet.

Spock was still looking at him stoically as ever, but the tilt of his eyebrows showed his confusion at the Captain's continued silence. "Yes, Captain, I would," Spock replied, still with that look.

Jim sighed and reigned in his temper. He had no reason to be angry at Spock. And his first officer was 'giving his condolences', emotionless though he may be.

"Thank you, Spock," he finally muttered. "I appreciate that."

"It was the least I could offer," Spock nodded his head once in Jim's direction. "I was on my way to the bridge if you and Dr. McCoy would care to join me."

Jim nodded and fell into step with him. "How long until we reach Earth?" he asked.

"We will arrive in Earth's orbit in approximately 24.7 hours. Admiral Pike expressed his desire to meet you at the space dock. He requested a private communication with you when you were available."

"I'm surprised he wants to talk to me at all after going bat-shit crazy on the bridge," remarked Jim. They turned the corner and waited with two crewmen from Engineering for the lift to arrive.

"Bat-shit crazy isn't what I'd call your reaction, Jim." McCoy, who had been keeping relatively silent during their walk, finally entered the conversation again. "You were upset. It was perfectly understandable," he said roughly. "The Admiral will understand."

"Or you'll make him understand?" asked Jim, hearing the unspoken threat in the words.

"You're damn right, I will."

"I do not believe your reaction on the bridge is what Admiral Pike wishes to discuss." Spock said as he waited for the two Engineering crew members to board the lift.

"Oh, and what do you think he wants?" asked Jim. "Bridge," he instructed the lift.

"I do not wish to speculate."

"You overheard the communication between the Admiral and Uhura, didn't you?" McCoy was glaring at him.

Spock remained silent. But the raised brow totally gave him away.

"What did he say?" asked Jim, curious.

"The Admiral and yourself will not be the only ones to convene at the space dock," he answered cryptically.

Jim stared at him. "Did you hear who else was showing up?" he asked, having a sinking suspicion he knew who it would be.

"I would not know, Captain."

"But you overheard the damn communication! You have to know who else is showing up," said Bones heatedly, not liking the look Jim was now sporting. He looked resigned. As if the man didn't have enough on his plate already.

Spock gave Jim a look. Jim chose to believe it was a look of regret. "You know all which I do," he answered.

"Damn pointy-eared hobgoblins and their damn habits of being no help whatsoever!" muttered Bones angrily as Spock walked towards his station as soon as the lift doors opened.

"I know who it is, in any case," Jim mentioned when Bones' face looked a little too red for the Captain's comfort.

"Then who is it?" Bones asked, obviously in an extremely craggy mood that morning.

"Well, there are two possible people I can think of, actually," he mentioned monotonously. "It's got to be either Sam, my older brother, or Stan, the jerk-off who was engaged to my mother."

Bones looked surprised. "I didn't know your mother was engaged," he said carefully, not wanting to tread on dangerous ground.

"I only found out on that last call. And we argued about it. She wanted my blessing…I didn't give it," he stared straight ahead, which happened to be the wall beside Spock's head. Spock seemed the feel the sudden tension and turned to look at them. McCoy grabbed Jim's chin and regained his attention.

"I take it you didn't get along with Stan?" asked Bones. It was obvious he was angling towards more information on the 'jackass', as Jim so lovingly referred to him as.

"No. Definitely not."

Bones sighed and gave Jim a half-hearted glare. "Any particular reason?"

Jim glared back. "Any particular reason you're prying into my personal life?"

"Dr. McCoy's behavior suggests he is attempting to garner information about this man to whom you openly show such negative emotion towards. It indicates his need to protect you during your time of vulnerability," said Spock, startling both of them.

"Could you stay out of private conversations!" spat Bones, giving Spock a look that could kill. At least, it appeared that way to Jim.

Spock raised his brow. "I apologize, Dr. McCoy. I did not realize you were having a private conversation."

Pure exasperation was radiating from Bones. "Honestly, man? Are you dense?"

Jim placed his hand on his best friend's shoulder in a calming gesture.

"Were you not aware that the entire bridge was able to hear your 'private conversation?'" asked Spock, completely serious.

"We weren't that loud!" shouted Bones.

"I assure you, you were."

Jim decided to ignore the two bickering idiots and headed towards the lift again. "Lieutenant Uhura, please patch a secure line with Admiral Pike to my direct line. Mr. Spock, you have the conn," he said quickly and left before anyone quite had a chance to realize he was leaving.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As it turned out, he'd been right on both counts. It was BOTH of them who turned up at space dock. Neither was exactly happy with him, either. And to make matters worse, Admiral Pike took one look at the three of them and decided this was a 'family affair.' He stuck around long enough to give him the information on the detective he was supposed to meet once they landed on Earth and then left him to his own devices. Awesome.

"You two couldn't have waited for me at the house?" he asked, frustrated that he was going to have to spend an entire shuttle ride with these two hostile 'family' members. Stan wasn't family, but Sam definitely was, even if he didn't always act like it.

"Would it have killed you to make contact with me after the death of our mother?" asked Sam angrily. "My God, Jim, you spoke to her right before she died! You saw her killer! And you don't even bother to show up for her funeral?"

Jim very nearly punched his older brother in the face. The pain of that alone, missing his mother's funeral, still ate at him ever since he found out. He wasn't sure why it hadn't occurred to him on the _Enterprise_ that a funeral would have transpired in the two weeks that he'd been left in the dark. And speaking of...

"Did it never occur to you that maybe I didn't know she'd been killed?" he asked, his voice cracking at the end. "Why the hell didn't _you_ contact me?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Stan, sitting beside Sam with his arm around his shoulders like he even belonged there.

"I didn't know, you prick!"

"How could you not know?" asked Sam, still looking self-righteously pissed off. "The police said you saw who killed her! How can you know that and possibly not realize she was DEAD?" he yelled, standing up and knocking Stan's arm off in the process. "Don't you dare act like you didn't know!"

Jim stood up and put himself directly in Sam's face. "I was talking to her through the vid feed," he hissed out through clenched teeth. "I saw someone through the window behind her. She went to see who it was. I thought it was Stan," he said heatedly, glaring at the man now beginning to rise from his seat to stand behind them. "I think she thought that too. She never came back to the computer. We had been fighting and I thought she was just mad at me. I closed the connection. I did not know she had been _murdered_," he said painfully, his eyes stinging at the tears that he just would not let escape.

Sam said nothing for almost two minutes, just staring at his little brother as he considered this information. "Why didn't you try to contact her in those two weeks if you'd been fighting?"

"You know her, Sam. It's always a month, if not more, before she's ready to talk to me again after I've reminded her of him," he said, his voice breaking again.

Sam's face softened a little at those words. He knew what it was like for Jim when their mother got like that. It was obvious that he knew Jim spoke the truth. "I'm so sorry, Jim," he said, his tone conveying his heart-felt apology and the bone breaking hug just confirmed it. "I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm so sorry I didn't call you. I was just so angry. I thought you knew and just didn't care or something."

Jim pulled back and smacked Sam as hard as he could on the shoulder. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why would I not care? She's our mom!"

Sam shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that. I just honestly didn't know what to think," he said, and hesitantly pulled Jim back into a hug. Jim let him.

Stan stood in the background anxiously shifting from foot to foot. "You don't think I killed your mother?" he asked, looking incredulous.

Jim shrugged his shoulders and stared the man down. "I don't know. Did you?"

"I'll have you know I wasn't even in town the day your mother was murdered. I was in Seattle visiting my brother. I have witnesses. So don't you dare try to pin this on me! I loved her so much!" he was genuinely upset.

Annoyed didn't quite cover the feeling Jim was experiencing at that moment. "I already disregarded you from the moment I heard about it. As much as you and I never got along, I know you…loved…her," he said by way of explanation.

Stan looked a little speechless. For a moment. "So, you don't think I killed her?"

"Uh, yeah. I think that's what I just said," he rolled his eyes heavenward. "You still don't listen to me," he muttered a second later.

"It's not that I never listened to you, Jim. I just had trouble talking to you. You were always so sarcastic and defensive. It was hard to get close to you with an attitude like that," Stan placed a hand on Jim's shoulder and for once, Jim didn't knock it right off.

It was true that Jim hadn't made it easy for Stan when he was growing up. The man acted like he was his father, and Jim just wasn't ready for that yet. Not when the man prior to him had been such an abusive jackass. He'd been expecting more of the same. They had argued a lot, but beyond that, Stan was actually a pretty decent guy. It was time he fessed up to that.

"Look, I'm sorry I was such a pain in the ass as a kid, Stan. I know you tried your best. And I certainly didn't help to make it any easier on you. Mom loved you," he said, remembering suddenly the blessing he didn't give when he should have. "I'm sorry," he said again, but meaning it for an entirely different reason.

"Don't sweat it, kid."

Jim nodded and noticed out the port that they were about to land. "I'm supposed to meet Detective Kingston at the police precinct at 0200 hours," said Jim as he stepped out onto the platform. The three of them headed outside almost immediately and it was then that Jim realized he didn't exactly have transportation. He'd been expecting the Admiral to give him a ride to the precinct. "Um…would either of you be willing to give me a lift?" he asked hesitantly.

They'd made up, but he wasn't sure how far that kindness he'd been shown on the shuttle would extend.

"I was actually going to ask you if we could come along," Sam's eyes shined hopefully. "We don't know much about the investigation. We figured with you having witnessed it and being a Captain and all…they might be willing to give you more information."

Jim stood there thoughtfully for a moment. "I didn't really want to go alone, in any case," he said casually. "I'd appreciate it if you came with me."

Sam gave a small smile and slapped his little brother on the back.

"I hope that invitation extends to us as well."

Shocked, Jim turned to see Bones and Spock standing just a few feet away from them. "Uh, what the hell are you two doing here?" he asked.

"Be nice, Jim. I came to show my support," Bones said roughly, arms crossed in front of him almost defensively. "And this one," he pointed in Spock's direction with an eye roll, "claims he would find a police investigation intriguing," Bones said with a look in Jim's direction that clearly said this was a lie and that Spock in fact was concerned. Even if he would never show it.

And then there were five.

…………………………

Jim decided that he would drive, even if it wasn't his car.

"You wrecked the last car I saw you drive," said Sam stubbornly. "And this one is mine. Try not to kill it, okay?" he said, clinging to the dashboard as if that would save him.

"Hey, I'm a perfectly safe driver!" exclaimed Jim as he turned a corner going just a tad bit too fast.

"I think the point of driving a car is to keep it on all four wheels, Jim!" yelled McCoy angrily from the backseat. "If you do that again, I swear you won't enjoy your next physical!"

Jim glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. "When have I ever enjoyed a physical?" he asked. "Besides, you're just pissed that you have to sit in the middle," he said, unable to keep the slight grin off his face at the picture he made stuffed in-between Spock and Stan.

"Oh, you're going to pay for this, kid," he heard Bones mutter from the backseat and was momentarily concerned. Then he saw the precinct coming up ahead and any mirth or concern or any emotion at all drained from his face. "We're here," he said dully.

Jim parked Sam's car and sat there motionlessly for a few moments, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly they were white. "Do they have any suspects?" he asked suddenly.

Stan leaned forward from the backseat, wrapping his right arm around Jim's headrest. "No, Jim," he said quietly. "They're hoping you could give a description."

Jim sighed. "So this whole investigation is riding on what I saw?"

Sam turned slightly in the passenger seat. "What exactly did you see?"

"Not enough to give the police a detailed description. I'm not going to be much help," Jim muttered, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel restlessly.

"Maybe they can use hypnosis?" Stan chimed in from the back seat.

"Hypnosis?" Jim turned around completely in his seat. "They still do that shit?" He asked, locking gazes with the one person in the car who would know.

The eyebrow went high into Spock's hairline. "Yes, Captain. Highly trained professionals have proven quite adept at extracting memories from the minds of humans."

Jim stared at him for a moment. "Wait, couldn't you just do your mind meld thingy and see the same stuff?"

"Indeed, Captain. However, it is highly unlikely the local law enforcement officials on your mother's case would accept this technique as evidence."

"Well, we could try, couldn't we? Discuss it with them and see if they will accept it?" asked Sam.

"If Jim is in agreement," stated Spock.

Jim nodded. "Hell yeah. I'd rather have someone I trust poking around in my head than someone I don't even know."

Spock stared at him. "The techniques a hypnotist would engage in would be highly different from that which I would use. There would be no mind-meld involved with a hypnotist. Therefore, the individual would not be 'poking around in your head', as you stated," explained Spock.

Jim stared back. "I understand the differences," he said in exasperation. "I don't know how to explain it. I'd just feel better if you would do it. I mean…at least this way I'll know for certain it's the truth. Hypnotists are known for planting suggestions. What if I end up saying something happened but it ended up being a suggestion that I thought was true, but isn't, and it screws up the entire investigation?"

"Your point is valid, Captain. I have no qualms against performing the mind meld on you. So long as the authorities agree, I will proceed with the process."

"Good. When we meet with Detective Kingston, I'll impress on him how important it is that you do your…thing," he said, wiggling his fingers at Spock's own, then pointing at his own face.

Spock's eyebrow rose at the gesture. "Indeed," he said quietly, a slight pull at his lips.

Jim gave him a small smile in return. It quickly slipped off his face, though, as he gazed back up at the police station in front of him. "I guess we'd better get this over with," he said calmly as he grasped the car door handle and pushed the door open with his foot. He waited by the side of the car as his family and friends disembarked from the vehicle. He heard laughter across the street and turned to see what caused it.

Oddly, there was a playground across the street. Many children were laughing and giggling, going down the slides and racing each other across the monkey bars. One lone child caught his attention, however. It was a little boy; he couldn't have been more than ten, watching the other happy children as they played with their friends or their parents. He swung on a swing set alone. As if sensing Jim's gaze, the little boy turned and their eyes met from across the street.

Jim wondered why he wasn't playing with the other children. He could sense sadness in the poor kid. Just then, Jim saw a man leave the precinct and walk carefully across the street. He stopped in front of the boy and then dropped down to his haunches. The man held the little boy's hands and told him something that made the kid smile, if only slightly. Then they both stood and walked down the sidewalk, slowly fading out of sight. Jim wasn't sure why it had caught his attention. Maybe it was the sadness in the little kid. He wondered who the man had been, his father…most likely.

He turned to see Stan watching him. "That was Evan. He and his family moved into the old Stinson house, about a mile down the road from Winona, about two years ago. She used to watch him when his parents would go out of town or out for a night," he explained. He watched Jim cautiously. "He was the one who found your mom."

Jim met Stan's eyes, completely stunned. "Pike said a neighbor found her. It was that little boy?" he asked, feeling a little weird now, considering he'd been so drawn to the kid. That was really eerie, but he didn't have any time to think more on it as a tall shadow suddenly engulfed him. He looked up into the dark eyes of a man in police uniform.

"Jim Kirk," he said, shaking his head in fond remembrance. "You've certainly grown up," the officer crossed his arms across his chest. "I expected you to be rotting in some jail cell by now. Not the captain of Star Fleet's flagship."

This was a surprise. "When they said Detective Kingston, I wasn't expecting it to be you," he muttered quietly. This was the man who had single handedly put a damper on most of his decidedly illegal activities as a teenager. "I kind of thought you would be retired by now," he said, trying to determine how embarrassing this could end up being. He did not want this particular officer to start reminiscing on his past misdeeds in front of his current company.

"I'm retiring this year, as it so happens," Detective Kingston responded. "Thirty years on the force, Jim. I've had quite enough. Though, I'm very pleased to see you again," he said, his tanned face smiling gently. "I'm very proud of what you've become. You were such a smart kid. I worried your past was going to keep you down. But you proved me wrong. Hell, you proved this entire town wrong. You're quite the young man, Jim."

Well, that wasn't quite what Jim had been expecting the man to say. Detective Kingston had been a firm supporter of putting him behind bars when he'd been younger. He'd been pretty mean, come to think of it. Jim was rather flabbergasted. "I thought you hated me," he blurted out, his face reddening as he realized he'd said that out loud.

Kingston grinned, his broad shoulders shaking a bit as he laughed. "Did you expect me to be nice to a juvenile delinquent? You were the biggest pain in my ass, Kirk. I'm just glad you grew out of it."

It was possible he was growing an even deeper shade of red.

"Jim, be a pain in the ass? I've never heard such a thing," McCoy said with a roll of his eyes. Kingston grinned at the remark. "I'm Leonard McCoy," he introduced himself. "Chief Medical Officer to the _Enterprise_," he said by way of explanation.

Spock stepped forward and slightly nodded at the detective in recognition. "Are you a Vulcan?" asked Kingston, eyeing Spock's ears curiously.

Jim, feeling kind of stupid for not introducing any of them, finally stepped up and made introductions. "Yes, Mr. Spock is a Vulcan," he said, giving the detective a look that said he was clearly weird for not knowing that. Kingston grinned at him. "He's also my First Officer," he said, momentarily slapping Spock's shoulder before he remembered himself and quickly removed his hand. That was something he was having a hard time getting used to. He was a very 'hands on' kind of guy. At least in the 'friendly slap on the back, manly side-hug' kind of way.

Oddly, Spock didn't give him the instant glare of death when he did it. It was strange how Spock could glare without moving an iota of a facial muscle. Jim watched him carefully and was pleased when the Vulcan didn't seem to mind. Awesome.

Sam poked him in the side, breaking him out of his revere. Shoot. "Um, yeah…this is Sam, I'm sure you remember?" he asked, meeting Sam's curious gaze. Jim shrugged at him. Sam would just have to keep being curious.

"I definitely didn't see as much of you as a kid," said Detective Kingston, his booming laugh filling the area. Jim groaned. "Nice to see you again," he said, reaching out a dark skinned arm to shake hands.

"You as well," said Sam, his smile not as bright. "I just wish it could have been under different circumstances."

That served to significantly diminish any pleasantness that had been transpiring out in the parking lot of the police station.

"So do I," agreed Kingston, his smile finally fading. He looked briefly in Stan's direction before quickly glancing between him and Jim. "What are you two doing together?" he asked, knowing the family dynamic between the two of them had been less than loving.

Stan looked at Jim hesitantly. "I think we're experiencing a truce at the moment, Mal."

Kingston nodded. "How long is that truce going to last?" he asked with a hard edge to his tone, his gaze locked on Stan. "Are you going to be able to keep your temper now that Jim is here?" It was asked quietly, likely for Stan's ears only, but Jim heard him anyway.

Jim stepped in then, placing a hand on the detective's arm. "I called the truce. We're not going to fight like the last time," he explained. He could see the curious expressions on his crew's faces. He inclined his head in their direction, letting them know with a look that it wasn't important.

"Well, I suppose we'd better take this inside then," The Detective moved down the sidewalk, away from the parked cars, and headed towards the steps that led inside the stone building. "My office isn't very private, so I thought we'd meet in one of the interrogation rooms," he explained as they stepped inside.

Understanding flooded over him as all heads in the building turned as one when they entered the building. Most everyone started whispering right about then. Jim wasn't all that thrilled with the attention he had received after the Narada incident. Most people thought the world of him now, and that was saying something, considering his past. He'd saved Earth. The past was now forgotten.

One officer started to walk up to him, his young face awe filled, but Kingston shut him down with a look. The kid looked embarrassed, but immediately backed away. Jim would have felt sorry for him, if it wasn't so damn annoying. He was now extremely grateful for the privacy of an interrogation room. The last time he'd been in one, intimidation had been the goal for the officers. Not this time, however.

The group ended up sitting in a room a lot more comfortable that he'd been expecting. There were windows, for one, and the chairs even gave off a more relaxing feel than he was used to. Well, in these situations. But this one was different. "I didn't know you had such nice interrogation rooms," stated Jim when they'd all gotten situated.

"I'd like to think that would be for obvious reasons, Jim," remarked Kingston, a small grin spreading on his face.

"I know, I know," the Captain mumbled back at him. "You could have been nicer to me when I was a kid, you know. You might have gotten more information out of me," he said, only slightly kidding. He did not react well to good cop/bad cop routines. He wasn't stupid enough to fall for it, to begin with. Or people being aggressive in general. He was telling the truth when he told Kingston he would have gotten him to talk had they only been nice.

Kingston watched him carefully for a moment. He didn't respond, but nodded his head a bit so that only Jim could see him. "You learn from experience," he finally said.

"So, "Jim changed the subject, "what do you want to know?"

"Do you want them to stay?" Kingston asked, motioning towards the group that had come with him. Jim thought about kicking out Stan, but he'd been pretty damn decent. Surprisingly, he didn't have a problem with them all staying. Hell, he might need the support.

"No, they can stay."

Kingston folded his hands together on the wooden table, another upgrade from the steel ones of the past, and leaned forward. His eyes instantly changed to convey sympathy. Jim wondered how long it had taken him to get that reaction down pat. And if it was sincere. "We need to know what you remember seeing about the man at your mother's house."

Jim nodded; they'd already figured that out. Too bad he couldn't remember anything in detail of the man who had been outside. He said as much to Mal. He'd never known the man's first name before. The Detective probably wouldn't let him get away with calling him that though, he thought randomly.

"That's okay. For right now, just tell me as much as you can remember."

"Well," he thought for a moment, thinking back to the moment he saw his mother for the last time. "We were arguing," he started, glancing at Sam with a grimace. "And I saw a man out the window, but the curtains were slightly parted. I think," he tried as hard as he could to recollect exactly what had happened. A slight headache started to form right above his eyes. "Truthfully, I can't remember what he looked like, but he was tall. I'd guess he was as tall as you," he said, meeting Kingston's eyes.

"Six foot three," said Kingston.

Jim nodded. "That's my estimation, at least. He had short hair. It was dark brown, maybe black," he said, cringing at his own inability to remember more.

"It's all right, Jim. We weren't expecting miracles. Just keep trying," coaxed the Detective.

Jim sighed. "Look, we thought of something out in the car. My First Officer," he used Spock's title to hopefully speed along the process and give the whole thing more credibility, "he can do this mind-meld thing." Kingston's eyebrow rose…as did Spock's. "He'll pretty much be able to see my memories of the event in detail. It's a lot like hypnosis, only more precise."

Kingston looked intrigued. "I've heard of that. And since it would take a few weeks to get a trained hypnotist in, I'm more than willing to give it a try."

Wow, that was a lot easier than Jim had expected it to be.

"Would it be accepted as evidence if it were to come to a trial?" asked Sam.

Detective Kingston shrugged. "It would have the same evidentiary significance as if a hypnotist were brought in," he explained. "So, yes, I don't see why not."

Jim nodded at his older brother. Things were looking up. He glanced at Spock. "Are you okay with this?" he asked.

Spock inclined his head. "I have no issues with this procedure, Captain. It is in your utmost interest we discover who murdered your mother."

"Thank you, Spock," he said nervously, feeling strange with having everyone in the room watching him. Bones stood up and scooted his chair closer to Jim, who gave him a questioning look.

"I want to be able to monitor you while he does this weird mind-mojo," he said with a hint of disapproval in his tone. "Are you sure this is completely safe?"

"I assure you no harm will come to the Captain by means of a mind-meld if done properly."

Bones stared at him. "That doesn't make me feel a whole lot better, Spock!" he gritted out. "Don't damage the Captain!"

Spock stared in return. "I will not."

Even Sam and Stan were starting to look concerned, but Jim waved them off. "Stop worrying so much. It'll be fine."

Before anyone could lodge anymore concerns, Jim closed the gap between Spock's chair and his own, their knees almost touching. McCoy followed closely in his wake. "Do your thing, Mr. Spock," he said, a tad nervously.

Spock raised his right arm and placed his fingers in the traditional position on Jim's face. "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts."

Jim jerked at the initial intrusion before forcing himself to get accustomed to it.

They hadn't really discussed how this was going to work, but having been through it before, Jim figured he only had to think of the day in question and then Spock would help him along. He wasn't prepared for how real it would be when he saw his mother sitting before him once more. It was as if she hadn't been killed. The surrealism of it threw Jim for a loop. He was watching the events as if he were a third person in the room, so to speak. He felt Spock 'help' him focus on what he was there to do. He turned his attention to the window.

He knew his mother's murderer would be walking passed the window at any given second, and was surprised when he was actually able to 'move' closer to it to get a better description. Apparently his mind paid an awful lot of attention to things he wasn't noticing consciously. Jim could practically feel Spock's nod of agreement through the meld, which was uncanny.

And then the man was there, walking by the window. Jim felt his heart skip a beat, probably even two, when he saw him. The breath left his lungs and he stood there gasping. Holy shit. His initial reaction was stark terror before it turned to absolute rage. Memories flashed through his mind. Memories of his childhood. Memories he would have rather kept forgotten. Memories that Spock now knew as well. Jim shuddered in horror and the mind meld came to an abrupt end.

"Jim!" The word was shouted at him, even though he was right there, thank you very much. He grimaced and pulled away from the sharp hands digging into his shoulders.

It was Bones, of course, who looked about on the verge of a heart attack, if his dark red face was anything to go by.

"What did you do to him?" Bones yelled at Spock, pushing his hands away from Jim's face. Spock moved away without protest.

"I'm fine, Bones," Jim shoved McCoy in the shoulder and the man finally took it down a notch.

"Fine?" Jim waited for the initial blowup. "You practically stopped breathing, Jim! And then you went completely white! I thought you were going to pass out!" And there it was.

Kingston looked a little pale, too. "Are you all right, Kirk? I've never seen a reaction like that to even hypnosis. That must have been one hell of a memory," he said, looking a little shell shocked. And even Jim could tell the man was fishing for information.

"Would it be possible to give the man a few minutes?" Bones was on full alert and pissed off mode.

Sam pushed and prodded until he was at Jim's side. "Are you all right, Jimmy?" he asked. Jim couldn't remember the last time Sam had looked at him like that. Or the last time he'd called him 'Jimmy.' Wow, his big brother was freaked. He could only imagine what he had looked like when he made the discovery of who killed his mother. And speaking of, he wondered if he should break the news in front of his brother and Stan. They knew the man, too. And neither would react well.

But, they had the right to know. And they were all looking at him expectantly now. So, he let Sam know he was okay with a hand on the shoulder and a nod and then took a deep breath. "So, I know who killed our mom," he blurted out.

Kingston looked surprised. "From one mind-meld?"

Jim glanced at Spock. "I didn't realize how much I paid attention to detail subconsciously. Spock just helped me look closer," he explained. "But, I was able to see him up close, I guess," he said, turning his full attention on the Detective. "I know who he is. I can even give you his name."

Everyone looked surprised then.

"Well, who is it?" Kingston had a pad of paper and a pen ready.

"Frank Henke."

No one spoke a word, though Spock and McCoy looked understandably confused at the shock and rage spreading over the faces of Jim's family.

"Are you certain?" Kingston asked.

"I have no doubt. It was him. And from the looks of things, he was drunk, like he always is," he said, slamming a hand down on the wooden table. "Does he still live off of Newton Road? Can you go arrest him? Like now?"

Kingston looked suddenly apprehensive and apologetic all at once. "Jim, he left town a few days after your mother's death."

Jim's mouth dropped. "What! Didn't you guys find that pretty damn suspicious?"

"We looked into him, but he had an alibi. Claimed he was at Jason's Pub, and Jason Smitts was able to back him up."

Something was wrong here. "One of them lied then. I'm telling you, I know what I saw, and I saw Frank Henke!"

Kingston and even Sam looked a little doubtful. "Are you sure you don't just want it to be him, Jim?" Sam asked very cautiously. Stan was watching them with a frown creasing his face.

Jim glared at his older brother. "I wouldn't make this up just to get back at him, Sam. I want mom's actual killer caught, all right? And as much as I would love to see Frank behind bars, I wouldn't put him there if he didn't actually deserve it."

"He would deserve it," Sam muttered, but Jim heard him and gave him a look. Yeah, he'd have it coming all right, but for the crimes of his past, not their mother's death. Though, Jim was positive he was guilty of that as well. He just had to prove it.

"Here's how it is. I'm positive I saw Frank just now. You can't screw up a mind-meld, right Spock?" he asked, looking quickly at his First Officer.

"This is correct. Your memories of the event were intact and I detected no flaws. If there is a picture or video of Frank Henke in the police database, I can also confirm Jim's recollection of events," Spock said, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Jim was very fond of him right then for backing him up.

"Then I think this Jason guy is lying to cover for Frank. Do you know if they're friends?"

Kingston shrugged. "In as much as Frank goes to Jason's Pub every night ritualistically. I'm sure they've gotten to know each other. I'll run by Jason's after we're done here and see if he left anything out," he said, his large face turning hard. "I hate it when people lie to me."

Stan clasped Mal's shoulder. "Then if there isn't anything else you need from Jim, maybe we'll head on out so you can do just that."

"We're good for now," he replied, standing up from the table. "Jim, if you think of anything else that could be of help, just give me a call," he handed Jim his business card. "My number is on the back."

Jim nodded and took the card. "Thanks, Detective Kingston. You'll let me know as soon as you hear anything, yes?"

Kingston nodded. "Definitely, Jim. I know how important this is to you."

The others were filing out the door and waiting for him in the hallway beyond. Kingston shook Jim's hand and then moved so his hand rested on the curve of Jim's neck and shoulder. "I'm very sorry about your mom, Jim. I'm going to do everything in my power to catch the bastard. Between you and me, I hope you're right about Henke. I'd love to see that man rot for everything he's done."

Jim knew he meant for more than just killing their mother.

"I'll give you a call when I hear anything."

Jim walked out the door and headed through the various cubicles and desks where police officers were answering phones and entering information in their data pads. The others were waiting for him at the doors. "Let's get out of here," he said, and they followed him out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was decided on the ride back that everyone would stay at Stan's house for as long as needed. He lived a few miles outside of town, not too far from Jim's and Sam's mom's house. They were passing it by when Jim slammed on the breaks. He sat quietly in the driver's seat, staring out the window.

"Jim?"

Jim saw Bones lean forward through the rear-view mirror and then felt his hand touch his shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked gruffly.

Still silent for a few more moments, Jim finally put the car into reverse and guided the car backwards to his mother's driveway. "I want to stop for a minute," he finally explained his actions as he pulled to a stop in front of her house.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Bones was looking mildly concerned. But he got out of the car when Jim did. Sam walked around the side of the car and stopped by his brother's side.

"Do you really want to do this?" he asked. His hand on Jim's shoulder kept him from moving forward.

Jim glanced up at him. His brother had always been taller than he was. "Have you been out here yet?" he questioned.

Sam sighed. "The day I found out, yeah."

"Then, yeah, I really want to do this." He walked up the front steps but came to a standstill on the top step, his gaze locked on the front patio. His mom had died here.

The clutter of footsteps from behind him let Jim know that the others were coming up. He took another step and closed the distance to the front door. His gaze was still lingering on the wooden floor where his mother had taken her last breath. He knelt down and then, hesitatingly, swiped his fingers against the grain. There wasn't any sign left behind that she had laid there.

Jim stood up then. "Can we go inside?" he asked, looking at Sam. He didn't have a key; otherwise he would have gone in without asking.

Sam scrounged around in his pocket until he produced a set of keys. They jingled as he went through them looking for the right one. Then he handed them to Jim, one key held out from the rest. "This one should unlock the door."

Taking the set of keys, Jim unlocked the door. He hadn't been home in a long while. Turning the doorknob, the hinges squeaked as the door swung open at Jim's push. It was the same as he remembered. The front hallway led back towards the kitchen, and that was where Jim headed. It was the last place he had seen his mother alive.

Distantly, he heard Bones mentioning that they should wait outside, but he still heard footsteps following behind him. When he made it into the kitchen, he glanced out the window in the living room. The window where he saw Frank Henke the day he had murdered his mother. He stopped himself from going through the what-if's for the millionth time, and glanced at the kitchen table instead. There sat her computer. It was no longer on, but he figured the police had turned it off or it had run out of power.

He felt someone grab the base of his neck and gently squeeze. It startled him out of his revere, and he turned to see Sam standing there. And Stan just behind him.

"You all right, kid?" Stan asked.

Jim turned back to the table. "I'm good," he said quietly. "I just…" he trailed off and spread his hands out, not knowing what to say. "I saw him. I should have warned her."

"Jimmy, you didn't know who it was until your friend did that mind-meld. You can't blame yourself for this," Sam's hand increased the pressure on the base of his neck.

"It's just…it's driving me crazy. Knowing it was _him _now. He destroys everything!" he hissed, teeth clenched along with his fists.

Stan stood there with his arms crossed against his chest. His face showed the concern he was feeling. And anger. "Your mom told me about Frank," he explained at Jim's look. "Told me what he did to you boys," Jim glared at him.

"That wasn't any of your business." Jim didn't know why he was angry. He shouldn't have been surprised that his mom would tell her future husband about her abusive ex. But, he was pissed that she told him what Frank had done to him and Sam. "You know details?" he asked, shaking in his growing irritation.

"I know enough," Stan explained. "She thought I should know, in case he ever came around again, just how much of an ass he was. How dangerous," he glanced at the floor before looking back up. "Even knowing, I couldn't do anything to save her."

Jim's anger faded at that revelation, knowing Stan felt the same way he did. He had no right to stay mad at him. They'd been getting along; he couldn't screw that up with old feelings of resentment.

"I guess we better get back to the house," said Sam, glancing at the slowing fading light out the window.

Jim agreed. "I'll grab Spock and Bones and meet you at the car," he said, giving Sam his keys back as he walked out the door. He found them standing outside by the fence surrounding the yard. "We're about to head out," he said as he drew nearer to them. "Do you guys mind staying at Stan's? I could probably find us a hotel, but there aren't many around here."

Bones waved him off. "I don't mind where we stay so long as I have a place to sleep. And some brandy would be nice, too."

The same was said for Spock, beyond the brandy portion, and with a little less inflection. With that decided the three moved to the car and waited as Sam locked up.

"I'd rather not drive," said Jim as he stood there. "Anyone else feel up to it?"

Sam nodded. "It's my car, anyway. I'll drive." Stan joined him in the passenger seat and Jim ended up sitting between Bones and Spock in the backseat.

The ride to Stan's house took only ten minutes, but Jim felt like it took a hell of a lot longer than that. Bones kept giving him evil looks anytime Sam rounded a corner too sharply, intentionally putting all his weight against him and inadvertently shoving him into Spock. Yeah, this was payback for his insane driving earlier in the day. Spock caught Jim when McCoy's last shove nearly put the Captain in his lap and gave them a look. Stoic though it may be, it clearly said they were both being idiots. Bones glared at him but apparently decided against acting like an idiot any longer.

When they pulled into the driveway, Jim recognized the old farmhouse that Stan owned. He and his mom had walked passed it many times when he was much younger. His mother had enjoyed their long walks. After being off-world for months at a time, Winona would try to convince Jim and Sam to come with her on her evening walks. Sam usually opted out of them, preferring to stay home or go over to his friend's houses. Jim, on the other hand, loved spending any time he could with his mother. They didn't see each other often. And when they did, it was only a matter of time before he did something to set his mother off. He would somehow do something that would remind her of her deceased husband. She'd instantly leave and go off-world again. Leaving him and his big brother with the jerk-wad, and he wasn't talking about Stan.

Stan's house was large, but two of them would have to share a room. Stan kept his own bedroom upstairs, Sam decided to take up residence in the living room, and Bones took the small bedroom in the back of the house. It was more of a storage room than a bedroom, but there was a small bed he could use. Jim and Spock took one for the team, sharing the large guest bedroom on the second floor.

They hadn't packed much so they left their belongings in their bags. Jim dumped his in an ugly green chair across the room, while Spock carefully placed his bag against the wall closest to the bed.

Jim eyed the queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was only a decorative rug spread out on the wooden floor, so sleeping on the floor was possible, but it would be uncomfortable. Glancing around the room, he saw a plush blanket folded on the window seat. He reached for it and flung it out onto the floor.

"May I inquire as to what you are doing, Captain?" asked Spock from the doorway.

Jim glanced up before grabbing another blanket off the bed. "I'm making myself a pallet on the floor," he explained. "I'm taking one of the pillows, all right?" he asked, not actually waiting for a response before grabbing one of the pillows off the bed and throwing it down at the top of his make-shift bed. "You can have the bed."

Spock continued to stand in the doorway, watching Jim as he made himself comfortable, or as comfortable as one could get, on the bedroom floor. "Jim, it is not necessary for you to take your rest on the floor. I am more than capable of spending the evening in meditation. It would only be logical for you to take the bed."

"I'm already on the floor, Spock. Don't worry about it. Just go to sleep," said Jim, turning onto his side, wincing a bit as the hard wood dug into his hip.

Spock was posed to argue his point once more, but Jim threw up his hand. "I'm not listening, Mr. Spock. Go to sleep. I'll be fine here."

Jim waited until he heard the shuffling of the covers before he shifted again uncomfortably. It was going to be a long night.

Around three in the morning, Jim flung off his covers and gave it up. He wasn't going to get any sleep. Why keep trying. He quietly crept to the door, watching Spock carefully to ensure he didn't wake his first officer up. He was successful and slipped out the door.

The hallway was dark and he wasn't familiar with the layout. Carefully, he tiptoed down the hall, watching closely for anything he might run in to. He didn't want to knock something over and wake everyone up. Once his eyes got used to the dark, it proved easier to see those obstacles, and he was able to get down the stairs without any problems.

He found the kitchen and cautiously opened the cupboard, expecting and finding something to snack on. It'd been a while since he'd last eaten. He grabbed a box of cheese crackers and an old fashioned soda pop. It was weird not having to rely on a replicator for food. Weird but super handy, considering the replicator would have made more noise.

With his snack in hand, he opened the front door and snuck outside. He was afraid if he stayed in the house, Bones would hear him and come to investigate. Jim wanted to enjoy his alone time. He rarely had the opportunity being a busy Captain and all. Running a ship didn't leave much time to himself.

The house was from the 20th century with a wrap-around porch and everything. Jim thought it was kind of cute. He walked around it and found an old porch swing. It was definitely aged, but looked as if it had been taken care of. He was pretty sure it could hold his weight. He couldn't imagine Stan using it, but he apparently didn't know Stan as well as he thought he did.

He idly swung back and forth while he ate his crackers and sipped his drink. The swing squeaked a bit at certain points, but he didn't think it would be enough to wake his friends inside. He sat like that, just enjoying the silence and the quiet chirp of a cricket somewhere out in the grass.

As he was taking another sip of his soda, he heard it, a sharp snap of a tree limb out in the darkness. It sounded like it came from out towards the abandoned barn. He could just barely make out the shape of it in the dim light. He peered intently in that direction, trying to determine if anyone was out there. Standing up, he took a step closer, resting his hand on the railing and leaning out into the night.

"Hello?" he called out, but there was no response. Giving himself a headache from all the squinting, Jim rubbed his forehead and moved back toward the swing. It was probably just an animal.

On the verge of sitting back down, Jim heard it again, this time closer to the house. He gripped the soda can tighter, prepared to lob it at someone's head if he had to, when he saw a small silhouette emerge from the shadows. His brow furrowed in confusion. Well, this was certainly not what he'd been expecting.

"Hey," he said, lowering his arm, feeling a little sheepish now that he'd been about to throw a soda can. "I saw you this afternoon, right?" he asked, slowly moving towards the steps. "Why don't you come up here?" he picked up the box he'd been snacking on and held it in the kid's direction. "Cheese crackers?"

Jim smiled a bit at the shy grin that crept across his face. "Your name is Evan, right?"

The boy nodded as he made his way up the stairs and stood by Jim's side. Jim handed him the box. "They're all yours," he offered. "Care to sit with me?"

Evan followed as Jim walked back to the swing and sat down. "It'll hold," he assured the boy when he looked at the swing incredulously.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, it's solid. Have a seat," Jim patted the spot beside him. "Isn't it kind of late for you to be out?"

Evan jumped up and scooted around until his feet were dangling off the edge of the swing. "Yeah," was all he said while he munched quietly on some crackers.

"How'd you get out here?" asked Jim, rocking the swing with his feet.

"I walked." Evan looked up at him. "Are you going to tell my dad?"

Jim seriously considered the question for a moment. "I'm not sure," he answered honestly a few minutes later. "Will you get in trouble if I do?" he asked, remembering the man he had seen at the playground earlier in the day. He seemed like a nice enough type at the time, but he knew from personal experience that appearances could be deceiving.

Shrugging his shoulders, Evan took another cracker out of the box and chewed on it thoughtfully. "Probably not. Dad's been letting me get away with a lot ever since…I found her."

Jim swallowed roughly. The idea of this little kid finding his mom, murdered like that, it must have been very traumatic for the poor little guy. "How about I'll keep this between just the two of us?" he suggested, earning a wide grin from Evan in return.

"That sounds good to me," he replied, sitting quietly for a moment before asking a question. "She was your mom, yeah?"

Jim glanced down at the boy. "Yeah, she was my mom."

The kid nodded. "Can I have a drink?" he asked, nudging the soda can with his fingertips.

Jim shrugged. "Why not." He handed over the soda. "Keep it," he added when Evan started to hand it back. He wondered how much caffeine were in those things, and how wired it might make a ten year old at past three o'clock in the morning.

"Thanks," Evan took a long drink before setting the can between his legs. A few seconds later, his hand was digging into the cracker box again.

"You hungry kid?" Jim was surprised at how much the kid had eaten, especially this late at night.

"Haven't really been hungry lately," he explained. "Plus, daddy says I eat when I'm anxious."

Jim frowned. "Why are you anxious?" he asked.

Evan looked up, his suddenly wide eyes locking onto Jim's hesitantly. "Can you keep it a secret?" he whispered, his voice so low Jim almost had trouble hearing him.

Leaning down, Jim nodded. "What's your secret?"

"I think he's been following me," Evan leaned closer, placing his small hand on Jim's forearm. "The man who killed your mom, I've seen him."

The air left Jim's lungs at Evan's words. "What?" he gasped, incredulously. "Where?"

Evan turned sideways in the swing and crossed his legs. Holding on tightly to Jim's arm, he whispered, "I saw him this afternoon, when we were on our way back home. We were driving passed your mom's house and I saw him. He was standing beside the house, all crouched down like he didn't want anyone to see him, but he saw me looking at him." He scooted closer still. "I think I might have saw him again in my backyard, behind daddy's work shed. He knew where I lived."

"Wait, I thought no one saw who did it?" he eyed the boy questioningly. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Tears brimmed in the boy's eyes. "He said he'd kill my daddy."

Jim cursed. Loudly. "Evan, I think we'd better go inside," he said, knowing it was dangerous to be outside without knowing where Frank was. He didn't even give the kid a chance to walk, but picked him up and slung him onto his hip.

"Hey," the boy was a little indignant, but clung to his shoulders as they rounded the corner and headed for the front door.

"I can't believe you walked here by yourself in the dark," he said, looking down at the kid in his arms.

Evan shifted his weight and held on tighter. "My dad had to leave for the night. He got called in. He's a doctor."

"You were alone?"

Evan nodded. "I'm ten years old, I can stay by myself," he said proudly. "And dad said he'd only be gone for a few hours. But, I heard a noise and thought it might be the bad guy, so I left the house. I know the woods really well. He wouldn't be able to find me in the woods."

Jim nodded. "What about when you came here?"

"I saw you sitting on the porch. I knew who you were because of the pictures your mom used to show me. You're Jimmy and I thought you should know about the bad guy."

"When did you talk to this man?" asked Jim.

"I saw him leaving the house when I was walking up the driveway that day. I waved at him, thinking he was a friend of Winny's." He glanced up at Jim. "That's what I called her, and she didn't mind," he added, as if he needed to explain. "He said those things to me when he knew I saw him."

Evan shifted again, gripping his shoulders so tightly it hurt. "Jimmy, t-there's someone over there!" he whispered frantically, pointing wildly towards the shadows on the other side of the porch.

Jim wrapped one arm protectively around the kid and took a step back. He could see someone was standing there. If it had been any of his crew or family, they would have made themselves known, not stood in the shadows like a creepy little freak.

"Who's there?"

Taking another step backwards as the man stepped out into the light; Jim could tell exactly who it was. Oh, crap.

"It's been a long time, Jim." Frank came completely out of the shadows. The years hadn't been kind to the man. He was still bigger than Jim, but he looked haggard and quite frankly…super creepy. It was no wonder Evan hadn't told anyone about the guy, and knowing the man's threats by heart, he could sympathize.

He whispered furiously in Evan's ear before setting him down. "Run!"

Evan took off like a shot. Jim heard him loose his footing, hit the porch with a cry, get up and take off harder than before. The kid was gone before Frank even knew what had happened.

Unfortunately for Jim, his distraction in making sure the kid got away safely was his downfall. Frank was suddenly on him, pounding one large fist into his face, taking him down to the ground with a dull thud.

Fortunately for Jim, he had a lot of experience in fighting. He managed to bring his leg in between the two of them and kneed Frank in the thigh as hard as he could from the awkward angle. It caused enough pain, apparently, as suddenly Frank was hissing and leaning to the left. Rolling away from his attacker, Jim regained his feet, brought his foot back and nailed his ex-step-father in the face. Frank flipped over completely mid-air and landed on his back. He didn't stay down long. Frank jumped to his feet, and flew at Jim. It took the younger man by surprise and he ended up dazed on the porch floor.

Frank straddled Jim's waist, wrapped his meaty hands around the younger man's throat, and squeezed as hard as he could.

Jim wrapped his hands around Frank's wrists, his first thought to get the hands off his throat. His legs kicked out helplessly as his air was restricted. Still unable to remove Frank's hands, Jim moved to punching the man in the face over and over again. It helped a bit, but only in that Frank released one hand to nail Jim in the side of his face. Seeing stars, he was utterly helpless to stop Frank as he again powerfully strangled him.

Vaguely, he could hear his own struggle for breath, the harsh gasping sounds he made as he fought. He gouged Frank in the eye as a last resort. It did nothing but make the man even angrier and the hands around his throat increased their pressure. His mouth opened and closed uselessly, no air was coming in.

Just as his vision was fading out, he thought he saw someone standing over them. Before he could focus on the face, he blacked out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next thing he knew, Jim was coughing, hacking harshly as the breath rushed back into his lungs. Bones was leaning over him, his face a picture of severe worry and anger. He could hear Stan & Sam in the background yelling. Suddenly all was quiet except for Jim's gasping breaths.

"Help me sit him up," Bones had his hands around Jim's arms, propping him up against his chest. Sam was suddenly there, helping his best friend to get him upright.

"Are you all right?" Sam was in his face, unbuttoning the first couple of buttons on Jim's night shirt, presumably to help him breathe easier.

Jim didn't really consider himself to be 'all right,' honestly, what did they expect? He'd just nearly been strangled to death by a nightmare from his past. Yeah, he was awesome.

His look apparently said as much, as Sam was shaking his head in regret. "Of course you're not okay," he started rubbing Jim's back almost roughly. Sam obviously wasn't handling this any better.

Bones reached over and grabbed Sam's hand. "Make yourself useful and call Detective Kingston," he muttered roughly. "I'll take care of Jim."

Sam nodded, not seeming to mind the harsh words, and quickly headed inside to make the call.

"Jim, are you injured?" asked Spock, suddenly kneeling down beside him.

"Of course he's injured, you idiot," yelled Bones, his frustration leaking into his voice. His gentle hands belied his forceful tone as he gently prodded Jim's neck. "Can you speak, Jim?"

Good question. "Maybe," he rasped out, coughing harshly as his larynx protested the attempt at talking.

"Until I can give you a complete scan on the _Enterprise_, keep the talking to a minimum. Your vocal chords are swollen from the trauma. I don't want any more damage done."

Considering his throat felt like it was on fire, Jim didn't think he was going to be his usual annoying self when it came to following Bones' orders. He wasn't talking unless he had to. Ow. Although..."Evan?" he mouthed the word, not wanting to cause himself more pain. But, he needed to know where the boy was and that he was safe.

"Is it medically safe for the Captain to be moved?" asked Spock.

Bones looked at him. "It's fine," he answered, giving the science officer a confused look. "Why?"

"Then I will take him to see the boy," he informed them, and Jim smiled at Bones, hoping the man would agree.

"I just said it was fine," McCoy grumbled, getting to his feet. "Help me get the kid up," he grabbed his friend's arm and started to haul him up. Spock assisted and soon Jim was on his feet, if not a little unsteady. He felt a headache start as the blood all seemed to rush to his head.

"Ugh," he moaned softly, grabbing his head.

"Head hurt?" Bones kept a firm hand on his arm. "Dizzy?"

Jim shook his head in the negative. "Hurts," he complained.

Bones gave him a sympathetic look. "Let's get him inside and on the couch. I've got a hypo spray in my medical bag that will help."

Again, they both took up positions on either side of him and helped him in the door. Sam and Stan were waiting in the living room.

"Do you need help?" asked Stan, making a move to help them with Jim.

"Can you grab my medical bag out of the back bedroom?" Bones asked as he maneuvered the smaller man onto the couch. Jim glanced around as he sat down. Evan was sitting in the big armchair across from him, looking frightened. Jim smiled at him reassuringly. Apparently, they had bonded out on the front porch, because a second later the kid was in his lap wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Easy kid!' Bones grabbed Evan's arms. Evan seemed to realize he was causing Jim pain by squeezing his neck and just switched to hugging his new friend around the chest.

"I thought you were dead!" he exclaimed, tears starting to fall down his cheeks. Jim knew this was the second time the kid had seen Frank commit acts of violence against human beings. Poor kid was probably traumatized for life.

Jim, not knowing what else to do since he couldn't really talk, just hugged the kid back.

Sam walked over to them and sat down on the couch beside Jim. "Detective Kingston is on his way out," he said, watching his brother and the little boy. "Don't worry, Jim. We'll find him and he'll pay for what he did to you and mom."

That wasn't what Jim had been expecting to hear. He'd been assuming Frank had been taken care of. He'd thought that Sam, Stan, or Bones had knocked the guy out or that Spock had nerve pinched his ass. Apparently this wasn't the case.

"What?" he said very loudly, forgetting for one painful second that he shouldn't be talking. A cough ripped through his throat and he spent the next three or four minutes trying not to sob like a little girl.

Bones hit him with two hypos, one right after the other. Jim flinched, but couldn't deny that whatever had been in them, they certainly helped with the pain. Even his headache was diminishing and the swelling in his throat seemed to be going down.

"That's all I can do until we get back to _Enterprise_."

Through it all, Jim noticed a small hand patting him soothingly on the back. Evan, Jim decided, was the cutest damn kid he'd ever met. And that was saying something. He didn't even like kids, usually. This was generally because he didn't know what to do with them or how to handle them. But this kid, he could get used to, he mused. But, that was beyond the point, at the moment. Where the hell was Frank? How'd they lose him? He caught eyes with his brother. "Frank?" he mouthed, barely making a sound at all for fear of hurting his throat.

Sam sighed, looking down towards the carpeted floor. "Jim, we lost him. He got away from us in all the rush to get you breathing again."

That was another surprise. "I wasn't breathing?" he whispered softly. It should have made sense. It actually kind of did. Frank had been strangling him, so it therefore made sense that he would have stopped breathing at some point. This was extremely weird.

"And let's not have that experience again anytime soon, shall we?" Bones said, his eyes wide and angry. "I don't enjoy giving my best friend CPR."

Jim grasped Leonard's arm and held tight. "Thanks, Bones," he muttered quietly, feeling a little shell shocked. He'd been dead, technically. A shiver ran down his spine. It was all just very surreal and downright creepy. "So…Frank?" he asked again, realizing it didn't hurt as much if he whispered very softly. Unfortunately, it seemed only Spock could hear his voice at that low pitch.

"He escaped during Dr. McCoy's successful attempts to resuscitate you, Captain. I endeavored to locate his position, but he had a vehicle waiting for his departure," Spock explained, his eyes seeming to show a little more emotion than Jim was used to seeing. Yeah, he was totally worried.

A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. "That must be Detective Kingston," said Sam, moving in that direction.

"Be careful," hissed Stan. "You don't know for sure who it is."

Sam slowed and nodded once. He cautiously approached the door and pulled the curtain back from the window just enough so he could see outside. The tension ebbed from his shoulders as he let the curtain drop back into place. "It's Kingston," he announced, opening the door.

Detective Kingston stepped over the threshold, noticing immediately Jim half sprawled on the living room couch. His brow raised almost into his hairline. "You need to see a doctor about that?" he asked, indicating the horrible bruising and redness decorating the man's slender neck.

"What do you think I am?" asked Bones sarcastically.

Kingston shook his head like he was having a 'duh' moment. "Sorry, Doctor. I forgot for a moment that Jim introduced you as the Chief Medical Officer. Slipped my mind, is all."

Leonard crossed his arms. "Doesn't matter," he said at last. "What does matter is that you find the little bastard who hurt Jim! Or I'll find him and kick his ass myself."

Jim reached over and placed a calming arm on his best friend's. "Calm down," he whispered roughly. His throat felt like sand paper.

"I'll calm down when I damn well feel like it!" he yelled, yanking his arm out of Jim's reach. "That murderer is still out there and he wants to kill Jim!" Bones was hot.

Since Bones had moved out of his reach, Jim leaned over and braced himself with his left arm on the couch cushion. Once his weight was supported, he found the right position that would keep him from falling off the couch, and smacked the crap out of McCoy's side. He gave his CMO the 'I'm still Captain and you have to obey my orders,' look before whispering, "Calm down and let him do his job, Bones."

Arms still crossed defiantly, McCoy stepped down from his self-righteous anger. "I'll do my best," he finally conceded.

Kingston nodded graciously. He could see how over-protective Jim's men were of him. The man just seemed to attract loyalty like nothing he'd ever seen before. Hell, even Kingston's own subordinates didn't show him as much loyalty as Jim's crew-mates showed him.

"I've got my best men out trying to locate Henke, Jim. We won't rest until we find him," Detective Kingston moved closer and crouched down in front of Jim. "I went to visit Jason Smitts. Frank's alibi for the evening your mother was killed.

Jim nodded, he remembered. "And? Was he lying about it?"

Kingston patted Jim's knee. "Yes, Frank had been in, but he left a couple hours before your mother's death. There was plenty of time for him to have committed the murder," he explained gently. "And with what happened tonight, I have no doubt he's guilty."

Evan, still sitting in Jim's lap, started rubbing Jim's back comfortingly. Jim gave him a weak grin.

"Are you okay?" he asked Evan. The kid had been through quite the trauma that night. "We should probably call his dad," said Jim, glancing around for the vid phone.

"I already did," said Sam, standing a few feet away. "After I called the Detective. He should be here soon."

Jim nodded. He rubbed his throat, it was bothering him a lot after all the talking he'd been doing, even though he'd been whispering.

"Give it a rest, Jim," said Bones, indicating the younger man's throat. "I don't want you wearing yourself out."

Detective Kingston stood from his crouched position, giving Jim's leg one more comforting pat. "I've got work to do," he said as his knees popped as he stood. "There are two armed officers staking out the house in case Henke comes back. If you need anything, give me a call."

Stan walked the Detective to the door, shaking his hand as he let him out. "Thanks for coming out, Mal. Let us know as soon as you hear anything, yeah?"

"I will," he returned and shut the door after him.

Stan turned around and faced his living room. "Let's get Jim in bed. You need the rest," he emphasized at Jim's disconcerted look. "I know you're not five, but you need it after all the stress you've been through tonight." Stan gave him a slight smile.

Jim grinned tiredly at him. When he was younger, he used to always yell at Stan when he tried to tell him what to do, stating he wasn't a five year old baby. He was surprised Stan still remembered that.

Spock and Bones helped him to his feet again, each supporting him from either side. He staggered up the stairs, knowing he wouldn't have been able to do it without them. When they all finally made it to his and Spock's bedroom, he was so exhausted all he could do was collapse on the bed.

"I'll sleep like this," he muttered quietly.

Bones gave him an exasperated look. "The hell you will."

Jim didn't even care as McCoy and Spock undressed him until he was in nothing but his boxers.

Stan, Sam, and Evan stood in the doorway waiting until they got Jim under the covers. Then, Evan ran over and, lifting himself up by the side of the bed, quickly kissed Jim's forehead. "Sleep tight," he said with a cute little grin. "Do you want me to say a prayer for you tonight?"

Jim smiled at him. "Sure" he mouthed.

Evan nodded as if he had a mission. "I will!" Then he ran back over to stand behind Sam.

"One of us should stay with him," said Sam from the doorway.

Spock immediately took on the responsibility. "I will stay with the Captain. It is only logical since we are co-habiting."

With those plans arranged, the others filed out of the bedroom leaving Spock and Jim to their own devices. Jim rolled over to his side, tiredly watching as Spock made himself comfortable on the floor. His meditation mat was already set up.

"Will you be able to notice if someone tried to come in while you're meditating?" Jim whispered suddenly, trying to keep the worry from showing in his tone or his face. He trusted his life with Spock, but he wanted to make sure Spock would be able to protect him if it came down to it. As much as he liked to think he didn't need that protection, he knew he was in no condition to fight off Frank if he decided to come back and finish the job.

Spock turned his head to face Jim. "Even while meditating, I am fully aware of my surroundings, Jim." And, proving his first officer knew exactly what he was thinking, "If Mr. Henke was to make another attempt on your life, Jim; he would undoubtedly be thwarted in that attempt."

Jim wondered if Spock realized his eyes showed exactly how fiercely protective he was being just then. Spock's adamancy deeply reassured Jim. There was quiet between the two of them then, and Jim was almost asleep when Spock spoke again.

"Jim," Spock seemed to hesitate.

Blinking his eyes back open, Jim tiredly waited for Spock to continue. "What?" he finally asked when Spock apparently changed his mind about whatever he'd wanted to ask. His back was rim rod straight as he resumed his meditation pose.

Spock abandoned the meditation mat and instead claimed the chair stationed beside the bed. "I wished to speak with you regarding the memories I witnessed during the mind-meld," he stated.

Instantly awake, Jim propped himself up on his arms as he stared weakly at his first officer. "What did you want to know?" he asked cautiously, his brow furrowed worriedly, wishing he'd just kept his stupid mouth shut.

"I ascertained from your memories that Frank Henke used to reside with you and your family. Is this correct?" Spock asked.

Jim stared at his First Officer quietly. He hadn't thought about what his step-father used to do to him in a long time, beyond today. It just seemed to keep coming up. It was annoying and frustrating, but he knew Spock would be curious after what he'd witnessed. The terror and fear Spock must have felt radiating from him during the mind-meld made Jim shiver. He trusted Spock and he knew the Vulcan wouldn't tell his secrets to anyone else. But, it was just weird to be discussing his childhood abuse with hi s First Officer of all things.

Finally, after he realized he'd been silent for a little too long, he answered the question. "Yeah, he was my step-father," Jim explained. "My mom didn't meet up with Stan until I was about fifteen."

Spock nodded. "When did your mother and step-father separate?"

"When I was thirteen," Jim watched Spock as he shifted in the chair. He wondered what he was thinking.

"His punishments for a child of your age were quite severe and unwarranted. I do not understand his motivation," said Spock, his eyes showing just how disturbed he was.

Shrugging his shoulders, Jim couldn't give him a reason either. "He was a sick asshole, Spock. Some people just get off on being able to hurt someone smaller than them. Apparently it makes them feel stronger and more in control. Or so I've been told," he said, reiterating what he'd been told time and time again in the counseling he'd been forced to go through.

"You were a defenseless child. Controlling you in such a manner was unconscionable," Spock, emotionless though he may be, was noticeably angry. "I wish to do bodily harm to him," Spock's hands were clenched and Jim was pretty sure the Vulcan didn't realize he was doing it.

Jim reached over from the bed and placed one of his hands cautiously over Spock's clenched ones. "Spock."

Surprisingly, Spock yanked his hand away at the contact. The Vulcan glanced away, seeming almost embarrassed, though Jim couldn't imagine why.

"I apologize, Jim. I did not intend to express my displeasure towards your step-father so vocally," he said, keeping as far away from Jim as he could.

Staring at him, Jim couldn't quite figure out his First Officer. The Vulcan acted so weirdly sometimes. "Feel free to kick his ass, Spock. I seriously wouldn't mind at all," he said, hoping to ease any of Spock's unneeded anxiety.

"Your permission isn't necessary," Spock started to say before cutting himself off, looking once more slightly uncomfortable. Jim wondered if he hadn't been apologizing for wanting to do damage to his ex-step-father. Though, for the life of him, Jim couldn't figure out what else he'd meant.

Compounding Jim's feeling of oddness, Spock changed the subject. "Perhaps it would be best if you retired for the evening, Jim."

Jim nodded, if only because he truly was tired, and snuggled back down into the covers. "Good night, Mr. Spock," he said sluggishly, suddenly more tired than he'd realized. His eyes drifted shut before snapping open again. "You'll wake me if anything happens?"

Spock, who had settled himself back on his meditation mat, turned back to Jim. "Yes, Captain, I will keep you informed."

Jim nodded as his eyes drifted shut once more, this time to stay that way.

Rolling over in bed, Jim glanced around the darkened room, wondering what had awakened him. Glancing to his right, he noticed Spock's meditation mat was abandoned and Spock was nowhere to been seen. However, Sam was seated in a chair across the room, his head bowed down towards his chest, apparently asleep. Jim figured they must have switched the guard, as it were, sometime while he'd been asleep.

He still felt uneasy, though. Unable to determine what was creating the feeling in him, Jim rolled to the side of the bed and carefully swung his legs over the side, dropping them to the floor. Barefoot, the cold from the wooden floor sent goose bumps flaring up his legs.

"Sam?" he called out hoarsely, his voice still not up to making much more noise than that. Sam didn't move, which was odd. In all the years he'd grown up with his brother, he never knew the older man to not wake up instantaneously at a voice or noise. He just did not sleep soundly.

Suddenly wary, Jim carefully got to his feet, eyes peering into all the shadows in the room, expecting at any moment someone jumping from them. "Sam?" he called again, a little louder than he should have, as his throat felt like he'd just swallowed hot coals. A cough ripped through him and it was all he could do to stay standing. He grasped the bedside table for support, trying not to fall back onto the bed.

His brother still hadn't made a move. Something was very wrong here.

Once he felt like he wasn't about to fall over, Jim quickly made his way over to his brother. "Sam?" he rasped out, shaking his shoulder roughly. "Are you okay?"

There was no answer. Reaching down, Jim placed his fingers against the pulse point in Sam's neck. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when he felt a pulse. "Thank you, God," he muttered, tilting Sam's head back so he could get a look at him. The first thing he noticed was the large bump on the side of his head. He could feel it. There was nothing around Sam that he could have accidentally slammed his head against with such force. Someone did this to him.

He moved towards the door, intent on getting help, when he felt someone grab his arm and haul him back around. The momentum sent him tumbling to the floor. Jim had a moment to think that Stan must have had his floors waxed recently, as he slid right across until he hit the wall with a thud. His eyes snapped up, locking with those across the room. He was utterly unsurprised by who stood there. He was, however, confused on how he got in.

"Frank," he whispered roughly. "How did you get in here?" He glanced out the window, wondering how in the hell the two officers stationed out front had let this bastard get inside the house.

"Easy," he slurred, obviously drunk. "The window. If your idiot brother hadn't been dozing, maybe he'd of noticed me before I knocked him unconscious," he taunted harshly.

Jim clenched his teeth together to keep from growling at the bastard. His fists were clasped so tightly he could feel his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. Jim stood, but was still too wobbly to keep his feet beneath him. Remembering too late that he was still injured, Jim slid gracelessly back to the floor.

Frank, looking a bit too much like the cat about to eat the canary, advanced on Jim with a look on his face reminiscent of when he'd been a child. The last time Jim had seen that particular expression, Frank had beaten him nearly half to death.

Instinctively, Jim tried to move away from the threat, but he was already up against the wall. All he managed to do was slam his already battered body against the unforgiving structure. Frank came closer, stumbling in his drunkenness as he went, but still unfortunately more mobile than Jim was at the moment. He lunged at Jim, knocking him fully to the floor. Jim skittered out of the way, using the slick floor to his advantage, and slid on his boxer covered ass over towards the bed.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to yell out, his throat simply wouldn't allow it, Jim grappled for the lamp on the bedside table, intending to make as much noise as possible. But Frank realized what he was about and grabbed onto his legs, yanking him forcefully back onto the floor, face first.

Frank flipped Jim onto his back, grabbed him by his hair, and slammed his head against the floor, dazing him. Dimly, Jim was aware of Frank reaching for something on the bed, but was too faint in the head to realize this was a bad thing. Sitting fully on Jim's stomach, Frank smiled hatefully at him, causing his heart to skip a beat in fear. He finally saw what the man had been reaching for on the bed. A pillow. Vividly, Jim saw his own death flash before his eyes. The man planned to smother him.

The pillow descended towards his face, but Jim was still too dazed to do anything to stop it. He felt the pillow's soft fabric against his face and as it pressed against him, contoured against his nose and mouth, he found he couldn't breathe. This seemed to bring him back to himself, and he fought.

Knowing if he didn't do something about it right now, he was going to suffocate to death, Jim reached up blindly, attempting to drag the pillow away from his face, smack the shit out of Frank, whatever. All he managed to accomplish was having the pillow forcefully shoved into his face with more power. Jim could taste the detergent used on the pillowcase in his mouth, smell it as well. Swinging his arms around, looking for anything to use as a weapon, Jim shuddered in pain as his wrist slammed into the bedside table. He screamed into the pillow, but it barely sounded due to his injured throat.

A second later, Jim realized why the bedside table was important. He reached underneath, groping madly for the power cord. He almost swept it away, but managed to grab the thin piece of cord in his hand and yanked it for all he was worth. The lamp came crashing to the ground.

Instantly, he heard footsteps clambering up the staircase. He hoped they would hurry the hell up, breathing was becoming an issue here.

"Jim?" he wasn't sure who it was, there was a closed door and a pillow between him and whomever was yelling. He wanted to yell back at them to move their asses, but that wasn't an option. His legs flailed out weakly, along with his arms, trying to make contact with Frank, hoping to do damage. It was for naught.

The door cracked and splintered from its hinges as someone presumably kicked it in. Jim heard it. It was the last thing he heard.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

He had to stop waking up like this. Coughing harshly, he leaned over the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor. Gasping for breath, he rested his head on the edge of the bed and curled his legs into his stomach. He felt like hell.

"Jim?"

There was a hand on his back, rubbing circles into his skin. Realizing there was no way he could move without inducing another vomiting episode, he stayed right where he was, even as curious as he was as to who was touching him. "What?" he managed to rasp a few moments later.

"Can you speak?"

Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Did words not just come out of my mouth?" he said, his voice sounding so damaged Jim cringed.

"Don't be a smart ass," Bones was suddenly in his face, grabbing him under the arms and positioning him on his back. "Open your mouth," he ordered crossly, and Jim obliged, feeling distinctly too weak to protest.

Fingers at his chin forced his face this way and that. "Say 'ah'."

Jim did roll his eyes then, but did as he was told. His 'ah' sounded more like a puppy's pathetic first attempt at a growl. It was that bad.

"Where's Sam?" he asked, pushing Bones' hands away from his throat. "Is he all right?"

McCoy didn't answer him at first, but simply grabbed Jim's wrists and pushed them down to the mattress. "Hold still," he muttered, before placing his hands against his friend's throat again. "And your brother is fine," he added a second later at the alarmed look he was sure was showing on his face.

"What happened?"

"Sam came up to relieve Spock. Detective Kingston had come back with some lawyer. They wanted to ask Spock about how reliable his mind-meld was for the case they're preparing against Frank."

Jim nodded; it answered one question he'd been pondering. Where the hell had Spock been? It wasn't like him to give up his duties, even if it was just guarding Jim, unless something important pulled him away.

Bones pressed a hypo to Jim's neck, causing him to flinch away. Jim glared at him for hypo spraying him while he was distracted. "It will reduce the swelling and inflammation," Bones explained, turning his head to ignore the look Jim was shooting at him.

"Wasn't it kind of late for visitors?" asked Jim once Bones had finished abusing his neck.

Shrugging, Bones asked Jim to open his mouth again. After deciding the swelling had gone down, he continued. "I suppose no hour is too late to prepare a case against Frank Henke. He's not the most popular man, apparently."

"I can't imagine why," said Jim, his voice full of sarcasm. "He's a huge rat-bastard, asshole…"

"Jim," the hand on his shoulder caused the Captain to look up at his friend. "Calm down and stop using your voice so much," Bones' voice was rough, but the gentle hand showed his concern.

"But, it doesn't hurt as much."

"And if you want it to stay that way, I suggest you stop talking!"

Jim glared.

"And stop being such an infant!"

Just to be obstinate, Jim flipped him the bird. And grinned.

Bones uncharacteristically had nothing to say at the rude gesture, but merely ruffled Jim's hair affectionately.

After a moment's pause, Jim asked what he considered to be the most important question. "Did they at least catch the bastard this time?"

"Frank? Yes, those good for nothing officers out front finally made themselves useful. I swear, I was ready to rip them a new one for letting him in the house. How could they miss him? He was drunk off his ass. Pathetic idiots."

"I was wondering the same thing," mentioned Jim. "So, it was the cops that pulled him off?"

"No. That was Spock."

Jim gave him a curious look. There was a tone in Bones' voice. There was a story behind that tone, he could just tell. "What'd he do?"

Bones met Jim's eyes, who lay still on the bed as he watched his best friend try to find the words to say.

"It was really fucking scary, Jim," McCoy finally managed to blurt out. Dropping the f-bomb, it must have been weird as all hell. "We heard that lamp hit the floor and instantly Spock was up those stairs. The Vulcan is fast, but I didn't know he was that fast. When the rest of us finally got in the room, Spock had Frank in the air by his throat. I thought he'd killed him, Jim. I thought Spock's ass was going to prison."

Jim, who had been relatively calm up until that point, shot up in bed and grabbed Bones' shirt front. "He's in jail?"

In an action Jim was starting to get a little sick of, Bones grabbed Jim's wrists and forced him back down on the bed. "Would you lay still!" he commanded harshly, though he was extremely gentle with Kirk as he pushed him back to the bed. "You're still recovering!"

"No shit, Bones!" he yelled in frustration, feeling annoyingly weak. "But is Spock in jail?" he bit out between clenched teeth.

"No. He's downstairs."

Jim frowned at him. "Then what happened?"

"If you'd stop interrupting me, I'd tell you!"

It was an effort not to give Bones the finger again.

"Frank isn't dead, for one thing, so there's no reason to put Spock in jail. But, the scary-ass Vulcan did nerve-pinch him. You should have seen him, Jim. It wasn't in his face, but if you had seen his eyes. He wanted to strangle him to death for hurting you. Again."

Was it wrong for Jim to wish Spock had killed Frank? Jim pondered on that for a minute as he watched Bones. "Could you have Spock come up here?" he finally asked after the silence had started to grate on his nerves.

McCoy paused. "Jim, can I ask you a question first?"

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, what do you want to know?"

"I just found it curious…ever since that mind-meld in the police department, Spock has shown a very protective side of himself towards you."

He found it hard not to shift at his best-friend's words. Because he knew what was coming next.

"What did he see?"

Sighing, Jim wondered how much Bones had to already know just from his medical files. He'd been captain long enough now; the man should have an idea, or at least suspect something, just from that alone. Going with the assumption that Bones did in fact know enough about his past to make an educated guess, Jim decided to go with the truth. Plus, he trusted his friend to keep his painful secrets.

Even though he'd made the decision to tell the truth, he still found it extremely awkward. He shifted on the bed anxiously. "Long story, short…he saw my step-dad beating the shit out of me… a lot."

Bones didn't look surprised. It appeared he'd figured it out after all. However, if the look on his face was anything to go by, Bones wished Spock had killed Frank. Slowly. And perhaps with a machete.

"There have been times, especially when it was required I look into your medical background, when I suspected something along those lines. Broken bones, scars, documented malnourishment...you couldn't have gotten into that many fights at that age. And no kid could do that type of damage to you," he said, his voice rougher than normal.

"Well, don't feel bad about it," said Jim, shifting again restlessly.

"Of course I'm going to feel bad about it, you idiot! Your step-father, someone who you were supposed to be able to depend on, used you as a damn punching bag!"

"Bones, you didn't even know me then. It's not like you could have stopped it," Jim wasn't sure why his best friend was getting so bent out of shape.

"That's not the point, Jim. Damn it, if you had been my kid…" he trailed off. Jim stared at him. "I would have taken care of you, kept you safe. It's what you should have gotten. It's what you deserved."

Swallowing hard, Jim looked away from him. Then he grinned.

"What?"

"I'm just having a hard time imagining you at the ripe old age of six…you know, if you'd been my father and everything." He grinned, glancing down at his lap.

Bones glared at him good naturedly. "I'm just saying, as a father myself…I would have done a much better job. Even if I am only six years older than you, I would have made a kick-ass dad."

Jim smiled. "I don't doubt it."

McCoy, to Jim's great embarrassment, tucked him into the bed before rising to his feet. "Stay in bed!" he ordered at the door. "I'll know if you got up!"

Jim didn't doubt that either. Bones had some weird-ass sixth sense when it came to his Captain.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door.

"Come on in," he called, sitting up in bed a little bit. He was attempting to get the pillows behind him when he felt a hand on his shoulder indicating he should sit up a bit further. He did so, and Spock arranged the pillows so he could lean back against them comfortably.

Spock took a seat in the chair beside his bed and looked at Jim. "You wanted to see me, Jim?"

"Yes," he answered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Are you in pain?" asked Spock, already getting to his feet as if to aid his Captain.

"No, no, I'm fine," he waved Spock back to his seat, and watched as he took it with a raised brow.

"Are you certain?"

"Perfectly fine, Spock. Don't worry about it." Jim was still shifting restlessly against the pillows. He didn't know how to thank the Vulcan for saving his life. It seemed to be a recurring trend.

Spock nodded. "As you seem to be having difficulty speaking, Captain, perhaps if you don't object, I might address…"

Jim, who wasn't high on patience at the moment, interrupted him. "Spit it out, Spock."

"I wish to apologize."

That wasn't what Jim had been expecting. "What?"

"I vowed to you that I would keep you from harm. I failed you in that aspect. Not only was Frank Henke able to gain access to your room, he was also able to inflict damage to your already abused body…"

Again, Jim cut him off. "You have got to be kidding me?"

Spock looked at him in complete seriousness, which wasn't any different from any other time. "I am not kidding you."

Jim just scoffed at him. "Don't be an idiot, Spock. You may not have been in the room when he attacked me, but short of having the ability to look into the future, there was no way you could have known he was going to attack me at the exact time you happened to be out of the room."

"Be that as it may…"

"And furthermore," Jim was on a roll. "You were the one who stopped him from killing me. So, you did, in fact, keep up your end of the bargain. You stopped him from strangling me. I'm pretty sure that gets you off the hook."

Spock looked momentarily perplexed. "Off the hook?"

Jim shook his head at him. "It's just a saying. Listen, you have no reason to apologize. You did everything in your ability to protect me. You cannot blame yourself for what happened, do you understand?"

"Of course, Captain."

Jim sighed. "Jim. I thought you'd gotten used to calling me Jim."

Spock tilted his head to the right. "Jim."

"That's better," said Jim, making an attempt to get up. He had to go to the bathroom.

"Get your ass back in bed!" came a voice from down the hall.

Jim's head swiveled towards the doorway. "How does he do that?"

Spock had no answer for him.

He'd been in town for almost a week now, and this was the first time he'd managed to make it out to the graveyard. It was a beautiful day, thankfully, and nothing like it had been for the last two. Rays of sunshine were cutting through the trees, hitting the ground in various spots. It was just cool enough to be comfortable in his long sleeves and jeans this early in the morning.

The curator had told him which lot his mother was in, and he was following the paved road through the cemetery, trying to find lot 27. Finally, he came upon the stone carving, indicating this was the lot he needed. As he walked through the various tombstones, glancing for his mother's name on each one, he felt the gaze of his friend's on his back. Glancing back to the road, he saw Spock and Bones waiting patiently for him.

When he turned back around, he saw the gravestone standing directly in front of him. It was the usual set up – name, date of birth, date of death, and below that: Loving Wife and Mother. It all seemed so impersonal now. There had been nothing left of his father to bury, so they'd at least put up a picture of him in the sitting room of their house. It had been the only picture in there, almost like a shrine. He used to go in there a lot as a child, before he got bigger. Before his step-father Frank had taken the picture down. Jackass.

He lowered the flowers he'd brought with him, Lilies, her favorite, onto the ground directly in front of the grave. He had to hold onto the stone just to bend down. He was still sore from all the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of Frank. Much to his delight, Frank was in jail, charged with murder of a civilian, and attempted murder of a Star Fleet Captain. That got him life imprisonment with maximum security. Jim knew the man wouldn't last long there. He'd piss someone off eventually, and get killed for it. Jim couldn't bring himself to care.

He'd seen people before who came out to their loved ones graves. Watched them speak to the stone, as if someone would answer them. There was nothing to say now. Yet, so much he wished he could have told her. For the life of him, he couldn't remember the last time he had said he'd loved her. He wasn't stupid, he knew she knew. The fact of the matter was, he wasn't sure if she'd loved him back. And that was just something he'd have to live with. The not knowing. Painful though it may be.

Unable to stay at the graveside any longer, Jim slowly got to his feet and made his way back to Spock and Bones. They'd stayed by the car to give him his privacy. He was watching his friends, and therefore not where he was walking, when he tripped over something on the ground. If it hadn't been for Spock, he would have face planted into a headstone. And wouldn't that have hurt. As it was, Spock had an arm around his waist while his other hand had grabbed hold of his upper arm.

"Are you still unsteady, Jim?" Spock's hold around him let Jim know his First Officer thought he was going to collapse.

"No, I'm fine. I just tripped over something," he glanced back at the ground to see what it was. "That small tombstone," he pointed it out to Jim and Bones, the latter looking as if he was about to whip out his tricorder. "Guys, seriously, take it down a notch. I'm fine."

Spock released him and Jim made his way to the car. "The Enterprise expects us back onboard by 0400 hours." Jim mentioned, wanting to get a move on. He was actually looking forward to getting back. He needed the regular hustle and bustle of everyday ship activity to get him out the melancholy he'd found himself in lately.

When they arrived back at Stan's, he found that they had decided to have a cookout for their last meal together. Sam was making old fashioned hamburgers while Stan had run into town to pick up some beer. Jim was pretty sure the beer was for his benefit. He was the only one who really drank it. Not even Leonard was too fond of it.

"Look who I found in town."

Jim glanced up to see that Stan must have run into Evan and his father while he'd been getting the alcohol.

"I wanted to come say goodbye," said Evan as he ran over and wrapped his arms around Jim's waist. It looked like he'd been eating some sort of green candy, as his mouth was dyed that color. It was a good thing he'd decided against the white shirt that morning.

He hugged the boy back, knowing this was probably the last time he was going to see the kid. At least for a long while. He ruffled the kid's hair fondly. "Have you had dinner?" he asked, glancing up at the boy's father.

"No," Evan glanced at the pile of hamburgers accumulating on the plate sitting on the picnic table. "You want to give me one of those?" he asked, and Jim laughed, ruffling the kid's hair again.

Since the kid's father didn't seem to mind one way or the other, Jim reached over and grabbed one off the plate. "Have at it, kid."

Evan's father mentioned having to go somewhere to do something, Jim was hardly paying attention, and he watched sadly as father and son walked away. At least that kid had a loving parent.

After they had all eaten, Jim found himself alone with his big brother for the first time since Frank had attacked him.

"How are you feeling?" Sam had been keeping an extra close eye out on him. Jim knew it was because he felt guilty for falling asleep while he'd been supposed to be watching out for Frank.

"I'm good," answered Jim.

Sam nodded, taking a seat across from him. They were in Stan's living room. Jim was on the couch and Sam was looking at him worriedly. "I'm really sorry," he finally blurted out.

Jim already knew what he was sorry for, but just like Spock, he didn't blame Sam either.

"There's nothing to apologize for."

Sam gave him a look that clearly said, 'yeah, there is.' "I fell asleep. You were completely defenseless."

"I wasn't defenseless!" Jim exclaimed. "I had a sore throat."

"There was a lot more wrong with you than just a sore throat, Jim. And while, yes, you weren't helpless, you weren't in any condition to fight him off either. It's amazing you held out as long as you had. If you hadn't knocked that lamp over…" he trailed off, the thought of what could have happened to the younger of the two hanging heavily in the air.

"I'm fine, Sam," he emphasized his 'fine' by pointing to his throat. "It hardly even hurts anymore."

Sam gave him a small smile. "You don't sound like you swallowed a prickly end of a hairbrush anymore, either."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, now I just sound like I smoked twelve packs a day for the past ten years."

"Jeez, Jim, it's not that bad." Sam shifted in his chair until his elbows were digging into his knees. "So, did you find mom's grave all right?"

He shifted a bit on the couch. "I did. It wasn't hard to find. How was the service?" he asked, since he hadn't been able to attend.

"It was nice. A lot of people showed up. Hell, I didn't even realize she knew that many people."

"Mom was a great woman," said Jim, looking down at his hands. "A lot of people loved her."

There was silence between the two of them then. Finally, Sam stood up and moved over towards a bookshelf in the corner of the room. "Did you know mom had been spending a lot of her time over here, about a month or two before…" he trailed off, but they both knew what he was leaving unsaid.

"Well, I figured she would come over to Stan's a lot if they were that close to getting married. Why?"

Sam turned back from the bookshelf with a large, old fashioned looking scrap book in his hand. It was brown and had pages that looked like the edges were frayed. "She did love you," said Sam suddenly, causing the air to go out of Jim's lungs. He handed the book to Jim, who took it slowly, his hand shaking.

"What's this?" he asked after staring at the front cover for a few minutes, almost afraid to open it.

Sam sighed. "You could open it to find out," he said.

Jim didn't even glance up at him. He slowly opened the cover and caught sight of a picture of himself. He'd been probably five at the time. There had been a contest in his pre-kindergarten class – whoever could spell the most words correctly won a prize. All the parents had been invited and he'd told his mother well in advance that it was coming up. He knew he would win. He was a freaking genius, even though he hadn't quite realized it yet at that age. It was always difficult to get his mother's affections, but he thought this would be something she'd be proud of him for.

He had practiced all his words the night before and was so excited the next day for the contest. His mother had promised she'd be there. And he knew he would win! But, as he took to the stage, he looked all out into the audience and couldn't find his mother anywhere. Sam was sitting towards the back with their babysitter. But his mother was nowhere to be found. Still, he carried on, hoping she would show up. Maybe she was just late.

He got all his words right and won the prize. He didn't even remember what the prize was anymore. He threw it away when he left. It didn't matter, it wasn't important. His mother hadn't shown up. She didn't care.

There were many more events like this in Jim's life. Hell, she hadn't even shown up when he graduated from High School, let alone the Academy.

But, he was staring at a picture of himself when he was five. He was standing on the stage, looking proud and sure of himself. And quite adorable too, he thought. "Who took this picture?" he asked, glancing at Sam now.

"Mom did," he answered steadily.

Jim looked at him in shock. "But she wasn't there."

"Yeah, she was. She just stayed where we couldn't see her."

"Why would she do that?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. But, the point is, if you look at all those pictures, you'll notice she was at every important event in your life, even some things that weren't important at all. She loved you, and she loved me. She just didn't know how to show it very well. "

Jim was surprised. He was still a little disappointed in his mother, but the fact that she had gone to everything important that he'd ever done, accomplished, made up for that a little bit. He even found a picture from when he got back to Earth after the Narada incident. The picture showed himself, Bones, and Spock, standing together in their Star Fleet uniforms. They had just disembarked from the shuttle that had taken them from the Enterprise. He was fairly certain she had been off-world on that date. She must have caught a shuttle back home as soon as she'd heard.

Jim stood, handing the scrapbook back to his brother. "Thank you for showing that to me."

"You can keep it, if you want?"

Jim clutched it to his chest. Even though it was all just pictures of him, they were pictures his mother had taken. "Thank you," he said softly. He was very grateful to have it.

"We need to leave now if we want to get back on schedule," said Bones, sticking his head in from the kitchen. He noticed the heavy atmosphere in the room and stepped in completely. "Are you all right?"

Jim smiled. "Yes," he said, and meant it.

The three had their bags packed and sitting on the front porch when Sam pulled up front with the car. He was driving them to the shuttle hangar.

Jim managed to get his bag to the car without any incident. But, as he shifted the weight from one hand to another, his back gave a twinge and he nearly dropped it. He was still feeling pain from the whole encounter with Frank. Spock slipped his fingers under Jim's in order to get the bag away from him. It sent an odd tingle down his arm and up his spine.

"Thank you," he managed to say after Spock had paused at the touch.

Spock only nodded once before placing the bag into the trunk of the car, along with his own. Jim climbed into the car a moment later, setting down in the back seat. Spock joined him and Bones eventually came over and folded his form into the front seat beside Sam.

"Ready to go home?" he asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

Jim smiled. Though he'd been with his family here on Earth, there was nothing that compared to the _Enterprise_. That was his home now, and he was more than looking forward to getting back there.

The End

Thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoyed this short little story.

Phisper - I hope you liked your story! Thanks for being such a great friend. :) Now that I'm done being completely cheesy, I'm off to write SIB4. Whoo!


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